


Roots

by d_aia



Series: Tree [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Not Steve Rogers Friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 17:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17853866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_aia/pseuds/d_aia
Summary: The idea behind the Accords was not going to be ignored forever. They were the result of people desperate to stop the train coming and so they redirected where it could do the most good: the heroes, like any other kind of law enforcement entity, were to be held accountable for their actions. However, the Captain was right about one thing—even while missing the point that everybody was actually talking about—the world did end up needing them and so exceptions were made.But the soaring point, the one that went so far over the Captain’s head that he didn’t even know it was there, was that the world would never come as hard on its heroes as it would on regular citizens.*Harley's not a happy camper.





	Roots

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, if you see anything you'd like me to add, tell me. Right now, I can't think of anything, but I'm pretty sure there were more things I wanted to add. Oh, well, enjoy!

Harley steps onto the balcony of his office. He loves looking over the city. New York is so vibrant, always moving, and learning, and growing. There is something about it—maybe the lack of silence or the feeling of progress—that has made Harley feel at home ever since he decided to move Stark Industries Headquarters back to New York.

It’s still one of the best decisions he ever made. Take the Tower back, convert the penthouse into an office, and make it work his way. Tony is, of course, at the basis of everything Harley does, but Harley’s not a copy. They both have their own style.

Harley, for example, likes to use the balcony to think, something about heights gives him perspective. Tony, on the hand, liked to tinker in his lab, he used the creative process that he knew well to find solutions to problems in other areas. But the opposite is true too. Harley likes to mess around in his shop when he’s upset whereas Tony liked to fly. They’re similar, even Harley has to admit it, but they’re not the same.

“Ms. Potts is here to see you,” Loreen says on the intercom that’s hidden in the miniature Iron Man helmet on his lapel. She sounds unimpressed. A message follows the announcement: _‘She insists and since she gets special treatment, here I am. What do you want me to do?’_

“Let her in, please,” Harley answers as he heads back in. But he messages Loreen, _‘I don’t want them to meet.’_

_‘Done.’_

Feeling the wind as it seems to struggle against the building, beating and battering with all the strength it can offer, Harley closes his eyes.

He empathizes so much with somebody uselessly trying to get something done. It’s not a truth he’s willing to acknowledge, but at twenty-five, he’s exhausted. His energy can barely hold up a breeze nowadays and, for this, he needs a tornado.

The idea behind the Accords was not going to be ignored forever. They were the result of people desperate to stop the train coming and so they redirected where it could do the most good: the heroes, like any other kind of law enforcement entity, were to be held accountable for their actions. However, the Captain was right about one thing—even while missing the point that everybody was actually talking about—the world did end up needing them and so exceptions were made.

But the soaring point, the one that went so far over the Captain’s head that he didn’t even know it was there, was that the world would never come as hard on its heroes as it would on regular citizens.

No matter how loud the Captain shouts, how strongly he plants his feet, and how absolutely devastating his fists are, he is only treated patronizingly and, most importantly, as an example. The mundanes point and say: ‘Imagine how much harm he can do if he wasn’t so noble.’ Looking in amazement, they observe, ‘Imagine if he wasn’t with us, how would we move him?’ They tell each other, ‘Imagine how hard it will be reasoning with him if he wasn’t understandably misguided from that wounds he sustained while protecting us.’ And they declare, ‘He’s with us, as is every known hero because that’s what heroes do, but the metas aren’t.’

And so, six years after Iron Man’s sacrificed his life for the billions’ and thus the heroes’ victory was assured, the consensus is this: the metahumans are dangerous and need to be controlled. 

Harley steps back into his office.

“Good afternoon,” Potts greets.

“But is it really?” Harley asks idly and Potts purses her lips. “Hello to you, too. Drink?”

As always when talking to Potts, Harley takes a moment to feel thankful for Loreen. Nothing fazes her. Loreen’s established competency and general ‘I’m too old for this shit’ demeanor is exactly what he needs. He had to pay for it, of course, but it’s only in an interminable amount of ‘momma’s boy’ jokes and comments. The cause is ostensibly that Loreen was fifty when he hired her but he knows it’s more to do with those people saying anything then with them.

Tony was lucky in finding Potts. She was a treasure for this company due to, in part, not being fazed by anything. True, she and Tony had a relationship that got corroded over time—mostly by PTSD—but that didn’t really spill into work. Harley appreciates that and always will.

But, also, Harley doesn’t quite understand why she left. Guilt reminds him that she has been through hell, and he’d understand that. Well, it wouldn’t be his business, so he shouldn’t have to get it in order to accept it.

That’s not what she said though.

When Tony’s will was read and he left his shares in the company to Harley, Peter, and Potts in equal measure, with an added provision for Potts to keep the CEO job, she decided to step down.

_“It’s time to make room for the new generation.”_

Harley would get it if she was afraid that the tech would not be as high-quality. That would be fair and many left because of it. In a way, Harley guesses that it was expected. What’s Stark Industries without a Stark?

Apparently, hyphenated names don’t count.

But she actively sold her shares at a lot less than market value when he dryly joked a price to buy her out following her announcement. It was a snap response and one not meant to be taken seriously, but he’s still a little bit guilty for saying it. And Potts… Maybe she was upset by his use of sarcasm? People tell him to his face that he’s an asshole all the time, they usually don’t harm themselves by doing so.

It still confuses him. She took a loss of millions of dollars by refusing to take an amended and serious offer as soon as he could gather his jaw off the floor and he make it. Harley insisted multiple times, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

True, after buying out Peter too he wasn’t left with much from one of his two main accounts from Tony, but…

One, Harley was in no danger of ever needing to work again even after that, so he doesn’t get what the big deal was.

Two, that was on him. His decision, his money, his business. That simple.

Also, three, Harley could have recovered his loss in two or three years—and he had.

So, it’s not that.

No, Harley is bothered by Potts’ implication: there is no place for her at SI.

He isn’t completely sure that it’s the whole reason; they may be others. But he’s sure about this one. At first, it was a suspicion, but, as time passed, it slowly turned into a theory: Potts feels ousted.

That’s bullshit.

There will always be a place for her—the CEO position, in the first place, but if she had wanted to take a step back she could have it without outright leaving. Harley and Peter weren’t going to give her problems or doubt her. She was there before they were and they both knew it.  After all, she had continued in the post in the year after Tony’s sacrifice, until the law was okay with declaring him dead.

What changed?

Harley can’t quite figure it out. Her behavior reads as protective, but they—and him especially—were nothing to her. He didn’t expect, need, or welcome her leaving SI.

“Tennessee water?” Potts asks wryly. “Nothing for me, thank you.”

Harley snorts. “Haven’t you heard? It’s the best tasting water.”

“Of course.” Potts smirks. “You can drink New York’s anytime, you just prefer not to.”

“Listen,” Harley says, “when New York water starts tasting like _water_ , I’ll be the first to support it.”

“I can hardly wait to—” Potts swallows. “I would have liked to hear you say that to Tony.”

It’s times like this that Harley wonders if she knows about Tony. Harley and Peter do. There’s no doubt about it since they’re really bad actors around each other, but it’s a toss-up if Potts is a great one or she doesn’t know.

Harley simply smiles and heads for the water.

“I heard that you were planning an interview with Ms. Everhart today,” Potts says, getting to the point.

“I am.”

“Do you think that’s such a good idea?”

Harley smiles but doesn’t turn. “Yes.”

With a strong inhale, Potts stands and heads to the windows.

Harley returns to the desk. He glimpses at his watch and decides to wait her out. She will speak eventually and he uses the opportunity to jot down some notes that occur to him. It’s known that Everhart’s tricky so it’s a good idea to be prepared as much as possible.

“You know she caused a lot of problems for Tony,” Potts finally says a few minutes later.

Potts is a lot closer than Harley thought but he doesn’t tense. He trusts her. She isn’t going to do anything to him. That being said, it’s still a surprise that she got so close. He must’ve been more distracted than he thought.

“I know that he liked her.”

Potts frowns. “He didn’t.”

Turning to Potts, he says. “He appreciated her.”

“That was one time.”

Harley frowns until her words make sense to him. “I meant”—he struggles not to laugh—“he appreciates her dedication to the truth.”

“Appreciated.”

“Of course.”

Potts drums her fingers on her elbow. “I didn’t know that.”

“They helped each other a bunch of times,” Harley volunteers. “That created a bond, I think. He didn’t have romantic feelings for her.”

With an elegant hand that waves the subject away, Potts points out, “Is this really the best idea?”

“I think so.”

“She will hound you.”

“Yes.”

“She will probably ask unrelated questions.”

“Yes.”

“She’ll get Peter involved.”

“I expect her to do her worst,” Harley summarizes easily. Potts tells him nothing new. “I can handle it.”

Potts turns sharply. “Can you?”

“Yes.” Harley lifts his head and fixes Potts with an unimpressed look. “I can.” He smiles. “I actually know what I’m doing.”

Potts blinks, snorts, and then releases a hysterical cackle. Putting a hand to her mouth, she turns to the window. “You couldn’t have been more like Tony if he’d cloned himself,” she says absently.

“Thank you?”

 “It wasn’t a compliment.”

Harley begs her to reconsider, but this isn’t the place or the time. “It’s going to be okay.”

“And the Shells. Why now?”

“It’s best to use our influence while we have it.”

“There’s no guarantee we still do.” Potts stops. “Tony would, but neither of us is him.”

“Which is why I’m using the Shells.”

“You’re banking on something that is likely be gone.”

“The past is not so quickly forgotten—not with the Captain on TV every other day, not with him being the unwilling face of this… slow-acting poison. And I’ll be damned if I let them forget about Tony.” Harley sighs inaudibly. “We’re going in circles.”

“You are right, of course.” Potts shakes her head lightly and doesn’t turn. “It’s your company now. I’ll see myself out.” She hurries toward the door.

“Ms. Potts.” Closing his eyes, Harley debates what he’s going to do about it. “You’re right—it’s my company and, while your advice is always valued, I refuse to discuss something to death and beyond. It’s impossible to convince you, I get that, but I know the full scope of what I’m doing. I’ve made my decision.”

Potts offers a tight nod. “Good afternoon.” She then takes quick steps towards the exit with deceptive ease in those high heels.

“Good afternoon,” Harley says to an empty room.  “Damn it.”

After a moment of silence, Loreen pipes up, _“At least she and Everhart didn't see each other. That had the potential to turn... unpleasant.”_

“Loreen.” An involuntary smile appears on Harley’s face. “That was the objective for this meeting, so I don’t know what else I was expecting.”

_“Puppies and rainbows?”_

“Is that so bad?”

_“It’s going to rain later today so might get the second part of your wish.”_

Harley smirks. “Put in a call in to Peter when the interview is done?”

 _“Going for two for two, I see.”_ Loreen laughs. _“Done and done. Maybe I find you a glass prism so the rainbow’s a sure thing?”_

“Love it.” Feeling better, Harley makes himself comfortable on the sofa with his notes. “Thank you, Loreen.”

_“Of course, Harley.”_

*

“Why the Shells, Mr. Keener-Stark?” Everhart asks after the presentation has ended. “It just reminds people of Ultron.”

Having been expecting it, Harley answers easily, “It’s because the progress of technology is not to be stopped. No matter the tragedies—and it was a tragedy, none of us at SI are disputing that—the world needs the Shells. Their maneuverability, power, and lack of human component are increasingly needed.”

“You also hire metahumans.”

“We do.”

“You’re their primary employer, in fact.”

Harley smiles. “And because of that fact, we’re very aware of what they are allowed to use their powers for and what they aren’t.”

“So Ultron is your next best choice?”

“SI is not responsible for Ultron, as the Congress rightly knows.” Harley pauses to let it sink in. “The Shells can and are reminding people of tragedy and that’s something we own. They have undergone a number of design changes, but the trauma doesn’t care about that. SI, myself included, is aware of the difficulties. We hope that, in time, they can be seen as they really are—tools that help.”

And if that particular truth helps Harley dodge the question, who’s to know? To be honest, his best choice would be the Shells working side by side with metahumans, something that’s a bit outside the bounds of accepted speech. For now, at least, and for a very short time, if everything goes according to plan, he has to refrain from answering.

“How does your brother see it?”

“I’m afraid that Peter isn’t involved in the decision making at SI.”

Everhart continues to study him with that fixed look. “He’s not part of the company.”

“No.”

“Why is that?” The small, playful smirk hasn’t left her lips.

“He wanted to start on his own.”

Everhart tilts her head a little to the side. “Some say he needed money to fight in the rebellion.”

“I doubt it. He hasn’t discussed money with me, but I know him.”

“You have no inkling? It’s a very big sum.”

“How Peter spends his money is none of my business. Frankly,” Harley answers honestly, “I think I know even less than you do.”

Frowning, Everhart says, “Even less than I do. That sounds like an insult.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Harley shrugs. “After all, you insulted my brother, me, my company, and our products.”

“No offense was meant.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Everhart leans back in her seat. “You’re worse than Mr. Stark.”

“Why?”

“Everybody knows what he did and who he was.” Everhart’s smirk widens. “It’s agreed that he was loveably direct and arrogant, just as it’s known what he did for all of us. He was a difficult person as are many geniuses and heroes.”

“I don’t understand,” Harley answers Everhart in kind, smirk unleashed and eyes dancing with amusement. “Are you saying you loved Tony? Or are you saying that I’m an asshole? Because the latter might be true and in regards to the former I’m sure I don’t have an opinion, but it makes me wonder if you knew Tony at all if that’s what you think about him. If anything, Peter’s the one who takes most after him, right to the warm brown eyes.”

Everhart meets his eyes, but she swallows.

“Tony was no more difficult than the average person: likes and dislikes, flaws and qualities, failings and successes,” Harley says decidedly. “Some might say that it made him human, but I think it’s what made him a hero. It shows that we can all be better, regardless of our mistakes.”

“Beautifully said and true,” Everhart says, with a shake of her head meant to buy time for the softening of her smirk into a fond smile to disappear. “But in regards to similarities to Mr. Stark… well, I don’t know about that. You have something of his enterprising spirit.” She changes the angle of attack for the sixth time this interview. “After all, look at the people you’ve hired. It’s a well-known fact that you have the love of the Meta community. That comes with unflinching loyalty of some very powerful people.”

“Nobody hires people who they know will betray them.”

“Nobody hires powerful people unless they intend to use them.”

“Peter’s powerful. He got a paper cut the other day and let loose such a pitiful whimper that I’m sure fluffy woodland creatures cried. I was afraid for a second that I’d have to beat back an enraged Thumper in his search for revenge on Pete’s behalf.” Harley mock-shivers. “It had nothing to do with his ability to lift or to move very fast, and yet I’m sure that if somebody would have suspected me of having caused it, I’d have been already six feet under.”

Everhart lifted a hand. “I understand that you want me to believe that power is not always obvious.” Her eyes sharpened. “I agree, to a point, but that could also apply to you. After all, here you are, baseline human and you have the world desperate to know your thoughts.”

“I could have meant that, of course, but I could have just wanted an opportunity to tattle on Peter.”

“Siblings.” Everhart laughs. “All right, I’ll let it the readers decide what you meant.”

Harley smiles slyly.

“Tell me,” Everhart says in a friendly tone, which is how Harley knows it’s going to be a rough one. “Are you familiar with the Rebellion?”

“I have watched the news enough to know that we aren’t in the position to rebel or to have anything to do with it.” Harley turns serious. “What we _can_ do is offer qualified people money for services rendered so that they can _eat._ ”

“What about the activism your company supports?”

“We’re also in the position to do everything legally possible to make sure that our employees are still viewed as people.”

“Is that important to you personally?”

“What do you think?” Harley crosses his legs. “No, really, I want to hear.”

“I think the only thing more important to you is Mr. Stark’s legacy,” Everhart says thoughtfully, but with a trace of provocation. “I know that he viewed his robots and AIs as his children. I’m aware that he also came to see Mr. Parker-Stark and you in the same category.” She stops and, after a moment, continues in a voice heavy with emotion, “And I’m sure that Mr. Stark would approve of your actions.”

Sobering up, Harley nods. “Because ‘Tony loves all his children,’” he quotes off of Tony’s epitaph. It’s something Harley truly believes and had it written in stone. “We, in turn, love him and each other.”

“That’s it then, isn’t it?” Everhart asks and Harley feels like it’s only now that the fight really begins. “Good luck, Mr. Keener-Stark.”

Harley flashes a vicious smile.

*

To the complete surprise of absolutely no one, it’s Captain America that they send to seize his company, stop his products and employees, and capture him.

“You’re an absolute idiot,” Harley says dryly.

Rogers actually takes a step back in outrage.

“Don’t,” Harley tells his bodyguards. “No violence, I can handle it. Go back and warn security not to interfere.”

They hesitate for a bit then retreat back up the stairs into SI HQ.

“You’re not going to talk your way out of this, son,” Rogers says, jaw clenched and hands anchored on his belt.

“You’re not my father,” Harley says coldly as he takes in his surroundings. Rogers bought his whole team and, surprisingly, reporters. Probably not his decision, but that is good news. “I’m not your son. Don’t call me that.”

More jaw clenching on Roger’s side.

Harley studies Rogers as he clenches his jaw harder and opens his mouth. Harley waits for a beat to make Rogers feel like he’s interrupted. “You know,”—Harley nods at Rogers’ power pose—“apes do that. Framing the groin with the hands to attract attention to it? It’s a show of dominance, an awfully transparent one at that, so I’d expect to see it in human bullies, too. That wouldn’t be why you choose to do it, right? Fragile ego? Scared to be taken down a peg?”

Rogers is speechless.

“So you feel the need to show dominance,” Harley continues. “Why? I’m a baseline human without any other support. See? No bodyguards.” He flaps a hand through the air. “The most I can do is talk.”

At the cost of diluting Rogers’ power, Romanoff says, “That’s a different approach from your interview.”

That knocks Rogers back on track, making shake his head slightly.

Harley can’t have that. “You can’t blame me. The last time somebody tried to talk him into surrendering, he chose his fists to do the talking for him. What if he thinks everybody will? No, I’m making it clear. I can’t take a punch from him.”

Rogers’ temper flares again—Harley touched a nerve—and Barton steps in before Rogers can speak. “That’s not the same.” Inadvertently, Barton interrupts Rogers which does nothing for his temper. “That was a long time ago—”

“Not even ten years,” Harley quips.

“—and the situation was different.”

“Of course,” Harley says. “Most situations are, at best, similar.”

Rogers is going to crack his teeth if this goes on. “Mr. Keener—”

“Keener-Stark,” Harley adds.

“Mr. Keener-Stark!” Rogers shouts.

Harley puts on his attentive face.

Like an enraged bull in a cartoon, Rogers exhales powerfully. And then he says it, “I knew Tony and he’d be—”

“No.” Harley feels cold, but he says the word even colder. “You didn’t know what Tony would do or want. You knew of him enough to rely on him when the time came, but you believed every bad word you heard about him _because_ you didn’t know him and you never wanted to. You don’t get to say his name to make your point.”  

Barton immediately hides a smirk, but Harley knows he’s still good. Yes, he showed a weak point, but the world loves Tony. His son’s impassioned defense is expected.

That Harley’s not sure he could have said anything else is irrelevant.

“And Ms. Everhart did?” Romanoff tries to get some shots in, maybe salvage something. She has to feel that they’re losing the moral ground, fast. The last thing they need is people thinking critically, or worse, end up dismissing them. That’s when their usefulness ends.  

Harley frowns. “Yes.” It’s clear from his tone that he thinks that’s obvious knowledge. “They weren’t friends or anything, but Tony always liked a journalist who told the truth and Ms. Everhart is exceedingly honest.” He looks at Rogers disapprovingly. “It’s not like that man over there who had kept secret his parents’ murder for two years so Tony can lose it once he found out about everything at worst possible moment.”

Rogers goes to say something and changes his mind.

“Actually,” Harley says, “you knew, too. Didn’t you, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Mr. Keener-Stark,” Rogers says finally, the words sounding like they’ve been dragged over rocks. “We are here to take you in.”

And Harley realizes that he doesn’t have to be a hurricane at all because he was never a breeze. When he needed to protect his people, he planted his feet and let them come. No one is going to move him.

Harley is Rogers’ fucking tree.

Fuck.

But Harley’s smarter.

Isn’t he?

He has a good plan. It’s strategic and everything. Harley is very vocally against the metas losing their rights and the movers behind the anti-meta movement must want to eliminate a prominent figure that is against them. What better way to head that off than to shine a light on something that has the potential to go sideways? He offers up bait that they can’t refuse: the Shells. If SI manages to get out of it, and they should, especially if there’s still some love left for Tony, SI can do all sorts of things like cry foul and accuse them of harassment.

Still…

Fucking _tree_.

“I know,” Harley says. “I’m coming with you. As I mentioned, there’s no need for violence.” He lowers himself to his knees like he’s about to surrender and looks at Rogers. “You know you’re being used. I didn’t do anything illegal. They just…  take advantage of your name against the very people you once defended.”

Rogers’ won’t meet Harley’s eyes, but Romanoff says, “No, he is not. You were never in the category of people he defended.” She touches Rogers’ elbow as she steps forward to get to Harley. “Now, is your ego satisfied?”

“It’s not his ego that’s the problem here,” a new voice, a familiar voice, _Peter’s_ voice says. He comes down the sidewalk, elbowing his way through the mass of reporters, and this was _not_ planned. “It’s his people. That’s why you are here. He chooses to help people like me and everybody suddenly realizes he has money. If he has money, he doesn’t need protecting or defending. He’s already a bad guy.” Peter extends a hand and pulls Harley up. “Never mind the people he’s helped and is helping. Never mind that you’re here because he wants to introduce technology to help more.”

“That technology is what killed a lot of people,” Rogers protests.

“I’d make a historical comparison, but there are cameras here and I don’t want to remind people of their tragedies,” Peter says and puts his hands his in his pockets. “If the government thinks so, there are always hearings. The technology is at proposal stage. No laws have been broken. No people have been endangered. There’s no need for you to take him anywhere if that’s your reason.”

Romanoff doesn’t react, but Rogers shifts his weight nervously. Harley, for his part, is over being taken aback by Peter’s unexpected appearance. There’ll be shouting in the future, but Harley’s willing to roll with it for now.

“If, however, we judge people by their behavior—not by their money, by the color of their skin, by the things they can do, by the jobs they have, or by whatever standard you have this week—you’d see one glaring reason for taking him in. Harley chose to protect a lot of people and that irks the real assholes,” Peter declares. “Let me ask you a question, Rogers: What the fuck are you _doing_?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Tony adds, appearing in a green glow.

Wait.

Harley’s head snaps to Tony. “What the fuck are _you_ doing?”

“Tony!” shouts… everyone.

“It was important.” Tony waves away Harley spluttered protests. “Didn’t you say, ‘I love you all’? You didn’t believe that?”

“Of course, I did.” Harley frowns, insulted. “There was a second part in there. I would never do anything to put you in danger. I was handling it.”

“You were,” Tony concedes, walking to Harley and Peter. “But this was worth it.” He gets a hand around both of their shoulders in a half hug and they go easily.

“Where were you?” Rogers asks, still looking like he’s catching up.

Tony smirks his ‘Tony fucking Stark’ smirk and Harley feels the tension from his shoulders evaporate. “Like the gauntlet could kill me.” Tony’s arm tightens around Harley in a reassuring squeeze. “Pffft. As if.”

Even Romanoff seems disorientated.

Peter must see his chance because, smiling widely, he takes it. “So no.” He reaches across Tony’s back to offer Harley his support. “We’re not moving.”

“Not this time,” Harley says coldly after a blink, with his arm already snaking in a mirror gesture to Peter.

Tony catches on and bites his smirk. “This time, you move.”

Harley expects a punch. Them saying ‘no,’ means that Rogers _has_ to show them how wrong they are.  Harley thinks it may be a compulsion for Rogers because most of the time it defies logic.

As predicted, Rogers takes a step forward.

Harley raises his chin. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking. The most that would do is give a target for Rogers to hit. But no, it’s instinct. Harley automatically shows his defiance.

For whatever reason, Rogers hesitates and a second later, Romanoff puts a hand on his upper arm. She says something. And then they’re gone.

Harley exhales. He did it; they did it. They won and SI can keep chipping away at the Ani-Meta movement.

*

_The thing about a tree is almost everybody knows how they look._

“Woa.” Harley blinks. “Did we just do that?”

On the TV, Tony, Peter, and Harley lift their chins at the same time. It’s like a montage, taken from different directions. They have eerily similar expressions and with the way they stand, they form a very small, but oddly determinate wall.

“You should see the picture _The Times_ has,” Loki says with a chuckle. “There’s a certain appreciation for what makes a picture tell a story. I love it.” He was also very satisfied that he got Tony there in time and would not listen to criticism.

Harley sighs—it’s Loki.

“Hm, I wonder where we can get a copy,” Tony says as he embraces Loki and looks up at him. “What do you say?”

Loki steals a kiss. “I could be convinced.” His magic makes a disturbance in the air and he sticks his hand in. “There you go, love.”

“Thank you.” Tony leans in for another kiss before looking at the picture. “It’s certainly speaking to me. Not sure it says ‘the Starks,’ though.” He hands it to Harley.

“I think it fits,” Loki says wryly.

_But few spend time on its component parts._

The picture is taken from the side, at a slight upward angle. It’s modified slightly to make the colors more vibrant and to darken the background. Unsurprisingly, it’s very good. But Harley has to admit that the result—the three of them shown in half-profile, defiance written on their features—doesn’t look familiar. It does, however, look like an iconic picture of three people who are not to be messed with and lower down the page, in a font that looks stamped on: The Starks.

_There are the branches with flowers, leaves, and fruits._

Harley already has his sister and his mother, of course. However, it’s not like there’s a limit for how much family you can have. He knows that Peter and his aunt, Tony and Loki, the bots, the AIs, Potts, Happy, Rhodes, and maybe Thor are somehow included; Harley would move mountains with his bare hands for all of them.  

Yes, Potts and Harley have their disagreements. He treats her like an odd aunt and she treats him like a naïve nephew. Yes, she annoys him and yes, he’s pretty sure he annoys her too. They deal.

_There is the trunk._

But this… well, Harley had never seen it. People have said he’s similar Tony, but Harley blamed it on their personalities. Now he sees it. In Peter, too. They look…

“Hey, we look alike,” Peter exclaims. “How awesome is that?”

They _are_ ‘The Starks.’ Strong, protective, defiant, and united, they look like two generations of a dynasty. Maybe _that’s_ the family business. It sure sounds like something Harley would be comfortable standing up for.

“Did you just… web the picture… from my hands?” Harley asks, look at the empty space where there was once an image. He grabs it back. “No manners.”  

Peter turns to look at him. “Are you kidding me?!”

“It’s not called stealing if you’re stealing it back,” Harley defends.

Raising a brow, Peter looks done, which is at it should be and accidentally funny. “Oh, yeah? What’s it called then?”

“Reacquisition,” Harley responds primly.

Peter shouts, “I’ll show you—”

“FRIDAY!” Harley howls and the suit forms around him just in time for Peter to attack. “Bully!”

“Thief!” Peter shouts back.

“Ow, that’s the circuit node for my arm!” Harley whines. “And how dare you! You were a thief first!”

“I’ll show you—auch, auch.” Peter groans. “That’s my hair.”

Harley smirks. “I thought it was weird that you were walking around with a duster on your head, but that makes sense.”

“Duster?!” Peter makes an outraged noise. “Like yours is any better. If mine’s a duster, yours is a mop!” He then proceeds to give the armor a noogie, which shouldn’t be possible, but somehow almost succeeds. But almost is nothing because Harley has fired his repulsors.

“Aren’t you guys too old for that?” Tony asks. He must watch them fly for about three seconds before falling in a heap, because he adds, “Ow.”

“Nonsense,” Loki declares dryly, and Harley can hear behind the word the experience of having a sibling for more than a millennium. “That is perfectly all right.”

The Starks, though, before being a dynasty, are a family.

_And what keeps a tree grounded, what lends it most of its strength, are its roots._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to comment (or just talk to me) you can do it here or on my [tumblr](http://e-alexandrescu.tumblr.com/).


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